Roadtrip
by Listless.and.Lovely
Summary: This is an AU. Fuu's a naive hitchhiker, picked up by two mysterious, yet familiar men. But it's darker than that. Mugen POV. my first fanfic!
1. Chapter 1

She was a cute little brunette in cut offs.

Tight ass, perky tits, big brown eyes. Definitely Asian. I'd bank on Japanese.

Jon didn't want to pick her up. Said she'd be trouble.

Of course, I brought up that I was paying for half the trip, but fighting with him was pointless. It always, always ended in a stalemate. Until one of us manned up and caved. This time, it was his turn to roll over. To cave.

I guess we should've known better than picking up a hot piece of jailbait like her. Girls like her are trouble. Mark my words. Girls whose eyes are that bright and wild, girls who have the balls to walk around near naked down a stretch of rapist-trucker highway and giggle at you, fucking giggle at you, when you tell them how dangerous it is.

Because they like the danger. It reminds them of themselves, their mothers, fathers, first boyfriends, sisters. Whoever gave them a taste for danger, they should be locked up forever.

Hers was a biker with an unusual choice of body art.

"What's he look like again?"

"Tall, muscular build, and tattooed."

"What kind?" Jon was really the brains, as much as I'd hate to admit it. I hadn't even thought to ask.

"He's covered in sunflowers." She giggled. Fucking teenagers.

Up close, I could see she was younger than I had first thought. She didn't look a day over fifteen, if that. But that face…look up heartbreaker in the dictionary and you'll see her face, at least her eyes.

She studied me intently.

"I like your ink, Mr…?"

"You can call me Morgan."

"I'm Fujiko. But you can call be Fuu."

I looked over to Jon, waiting for him to speak.

"I'd sooner call you foolish."

"I'm not foolish." It was weird, but after awhile traveling together, I could tell when he had something to say, as rarely as that was.

"Anyone who chooses to hitchhike in this area, of all places, is extremely foolish."

Jon's eyes flashed in the mirror. Behind his frames, I swear I could see the pissed-off-ness radiating in waves.

"God, you're not my Dad or anything. I can do what I want."

"I'm not preventing you from doing so. I'm simply pointing out that you are either incredibly naïve or reckless."

"I wasn't even talking to you." She hunkered down in the backseat, pouting.

"Y'know," I said, turning to look at her again. "They call shorts like those coochie-cutters."

"Ew! You're worse than him!"

The way she pointed at Jon, nail disrupting the back of his silky hair, seemed so remarkably juvenile I forced out a cough to disguise my laughter.

"So, where's this sunflower-tattooed biker of yours?"

"If I knew, I'd be there, genius."

Jon laughed, temporarily gaining her favor back.

"She's pretty clever, hm, Morgan?"

I scowled at him, instead of responding.

"Are you two like, brothers?"

"No. No relation."

"College buddies?"

I laughed.

"Yeah, I'm totally a college graduate. Jon, here, he went to Princeton."

"Seriously?"

"Motherfucking Princeton."

"Why does she need to know that, Morgan?"

"She was just asking, dude. It's no big deal."

He was silent. I leaned away, on the window, and tried to sleep considering it was roughly 2 in the goddamned morning.

Fuu curled up and slept, catlike, in the backseat. Jon drove, seemingly immune to the exhaustion.

Half an hour later, he'd gotten us all checked in, into a dingy, filthy motel. Our room had two beds. Fuck.

Fuu looked at both of us strangely.

"You only got one room."

"You didn't give me any money."

"Well, where am I going to sleep?"

"I only paid for two people. You can sleep in the car, or sneak through the back door and sleep here."

She bit her bottom lip, confused and adorable. Eventually, she turned and walked away, towards the back entrance.

"Room 106," Jon called to her.

Once she was out of earshot, I turned to him, unable to contain just how pissed I was at him.

"Two beds?"

"Two beds."

"She'll be sleeping on the floor? Or with you?"

"You'll be sleeping with me."

"She gets her own bed?"

"And you get to share one. With me."

I leaned in and kissed him, there in full view of whoever happened to be out at 2:30 in the morning.

I wanted to say thank you, or something else stupid like that but I couldn't think of a good way to say it without seeming clingy and needy.

See, thing is, we'd slept together before. Once, at the very beginning. We'd only been traveling two days and stopped for the first time.

It was a motel, much like this one, but it had one bed. Not quite a queen-sized, but bigger than a double.

We had gone to bed in silence. Facing different ways, not looking at each other. After an hour, sure Jon was asleep, a leaned over and stroked his cheek, light and gentle. It was so different from anything I did to him when he was awake.

He had turned his head, kissed my palm. He hadn't been sleeping at all. In a flurry of movement the sheets were thrown aside and we fought for dominance

God. That mouth of his.

He grabbed my hand and tugged me from my memories into the hotel room. He was on me in an instant, feeling my goosebumped skin beneath my red plaid flannel and tasting my neck, lips, biting my collarbone.

But we pulled away and separated when we heard her knock. I went to the bathroom to collect myself, calm the bright blush on my face and fix my hair. He stayed to answer the door.

"You want your own room next time, you pay me."

He was explaining the conditions, his conditions, for traveling with him. He'd done the same thing with me, except for the first rule. He never told me there was an option other than sharing a room. Not that I would've taken it.

"You'll work when we choose to stay somewhere for more than a night."

She sat on the bed, looking too much like a doll.

"If we're going to find this Sunflower-Biker, we're expecting reimbursement."

At this, she looked nervous and sat up, removing her shirt.

"Not, not, not like that." It was funny seeing Jon so clearly unsettled.

"What kind of reimbursement? I don't have much to offer…well, except…"

"Except what?" I was eager to hear what else she had to give. Jon and I weren't exactly interested in the pleasures her teenage body had to offer. I mean, I'd fuck her and Jon probably would too, but it's not like that'd buy gas and food.

"My father's will. If we can get to California before the end of the month I can get my inheritance."

"Is that where you're from?"

"Yeah. Cali girl all the way!"

"So, is that where your biker is from?"

"I think so."

"So that's where we're going."

She lay back and nodded sleepily. When her eyes closed, Jon removed his navy blue shirt. I looked at Fuu and I could see her eyes open a slit.

Willing to give a show, I pulled off mine too. Jon and I both had spectacular builds, real thin and tightly muscled. Jon had broader shoulders, and was a little taller, but I had a longer torso.

He really is intensely good looking. He was pale, really pale, with these crazy grey eyes. They were crazier when he took off his glasses and you could really see just how much they caught the light.

Me, I was just a tan mutt. Little of this, little of that. He was purebred, but I never asked what. Something about him seemed cold. Nordic. Like he was a Viking. Me, I was just a tan orphan with nappy hair. And cheap tattoos.

He had a tattoo of his own. I found it when we first met.

It had been a bar brawl, him and me in a stalemate, which is how we would always ended up. We gradually made our way outside, both pulling out our knives. Mine caught him in a jab to the right, just past his hipbone.

I only caught his shirt and his jeans, but as I pulled away I saw a faint bit of ink. Below his belly button and to the right, he had a diamond made of four diamonds together. Or, try to picture a diamond with an X dividing it into four smaller diamonds.

It's hard to describe.

That fight, we decided to flee from. Of course, the cops ad been called and we both needed to run.

He gave me a ride and I had no idea why then. I get now that he did it because he respects me. Because I'm closer to being his equal, at least in combat, than anyone else he's met.

Jon's got something else too. He wears a greenish-brown leather buckle bracelet on his left wrist, and underneath it he's got some Japanese nonsense. He told me it means 'benevolence.' I laughed.

I've got my own share of bodywork. Both ears pierced, two plain bands on both forearms and both shins, outline of a triangle on my left shoulder blade, and a green and yellow zigzag on my right bicep.

Fuu's got something too. I saw it when she pulled off her shirt. Just below the band of the pink bra she wore, on her thin, pale ribs, she's got a cute little squirrel. I made a mental note to ask her about it.

She mimed sleep, slowing her breathing deliberately, faking a light snore. Sure, she was pretty good, but Jon and me knew she was still awake. She was waiting to see if we said anything. Revealed any great secrets.

I motioned silently for the door, cigarette between my fingers. He smoked expensive, black, slim cigarillos. The kind that always looked classy. The kind that were twelve bucks a pack.

I smoked whatever was cheap. Usually Basics. Disgusting, but strangely tasty.

As soon as the door closed he was on me again. Kissing me hard and desperate. His arms all over and his hands feeling my body, clearly glad we'd both left our shirts in the room.

In these moments, closer to him than I've ever been, I can't stop thinking.

We've only known each other a couple of days. I love him already.

We both carry guns.

We're traveling with the kind of girl who gets guys like us killed.

He smells like the rain. Like the cleanest, bluest river ever. Like ice.

I don't want her to know about us yet. I don't know why.

We pulled apart and it felt like waking up. Groggy, refreshed but still confused as, like I didn't know what was real anymore. One look in his eyes and I knew that's what my world would become.

I loved it.

He flicked open his silver lighter. Zippo, not a knock off, and engraved with his father's initials. I didn't have to assume. I just knew somehow.

We leaned in, letting the ends of our cigarettes kiss and catch fire together. Just like us.

We were calm and cool on the outside. Him, way more so than me. But when we bumped together, fire, instantly. We'd fight. A lot. More than anyone else.

But somehow, me a high school drop out, and criminally lazy, I was his, ivy league graduate, and clinical overachiever, equal. Ever battle was a stalemate. So to speak.

Physically we were evenly matched. Forever and always.

'Course, I could wipe the floor with him when it came to dancing. Guy has no rhythm. But I didn't find that out until later.


	2. Chapter 2

We moved on the next day

We moved on the next day. He sent her out for supplies, bottled water, a new map, little shit like that.

When she left, I grabbed him, pouncing and biting like the beast I am.

"You're my favorite animal."

I roared at him in response. He smiled the slightest bit.

Quickly, I got up and dragged him by both wrists to the shower. The first couple minutes, we both concerned ourselves with actually getting clean. But we kept bumping each other, rubbing by mistake and well, I don't need to draw a picture for ya do I?

After, we cleaned up, somehow sweaty despite the shower, and not a bit cleaner. I swear to god, he'll be the death of me.

Sitting in the bottom of the shower, long since clean, I looked up at him. He was totally OCD when it came to showers. He took forever, combing shampoo through his hair, scrubbing under his arms, behind his knees, the back of his neck. Hell, he shampooed his pubes and conditioned them. When we shower together, I always clean myself more than when I shower alone.

I really missed his hair. Before, when we first met, his hair was long. Like a girl's. It was tied back and I ended up grabbing it a lot when we first fought, tugging him towards me and trying to land a stab on him.

But after the cops got called, he thought that it'd be better if we both changed our appearances. He sat me between his legs and poured a whole lot of rank ammonia on my scalp and shit did it burn.

I looked cool though. Like a hot, tan blonde. I thought I looked kinda dangerous too. I'm pretty sure less people fuck with me now.

But him, he just cut off that ponytail and trimmed the rest of it. We were in a fucked gas station bathroom.

I kept his ponytail. In a plastic bag. He looked at me, like he just realized what we were going to become.

"You keep surprising me."

"We don't know each other that well, I guess."

He said nothing, simply pulled me towards the sink and rinsed my hair again. I could hear him breath shallow, through his nose. I blamed it on the ammonia, but I think he was finally hit by the fact that he was fucking a guy, to put it crudely. Crudeness, after all, is a big part of my personality.

The shower is suddenly shut off, and I can't believe how lost I was in thought. He was the one who did stuff like that, thinking all the time, not me.

He squatted down to my eyelevel and just stared, for a long time.

"Where are you from?"

"New York."

He said nothing, only ran his hand through my hair. The roots showed, dark and bright, I knew, even though I couldn't see them unless I looked in a mirror.

"You?" I finally asked.

The pause between the question was so long I knew he wouldn't really tell me.

"Around."

I wasn't surprised, just a little disappointed that I'd given him an answer.

I thought I suburb was more than likely, not a city itself. Rich people didn't like those dirty places of whores and junkies.

That was another thing about him, I thought while toweling off and sitting on Fuu's bed. He was unmistakably rich and European. I figure maybe Russian. Or something Nordic. Wherever his family was originally from, it was really cold there, and that coldness was a part of him. He belonged to that coldness whether or not he wanted to.

Fuu let herself in, while he was pulling on a pair of boxers and I was lounging naked, still on her bed.

We both threw ourselves into modesty, covering our dicks and asses, hiding in shirts and towels while she shrieked in embarrassment.

After Jon was dressed and I was wearing jeans, at least, no underwear and no shirt, he let her back in. it'd only been a couple minutes.

"Some guy wanted to know how much an hour was, so I stepped on his foot and pinched his nose and I told him, 'an our is sixty minutes, jerk!'"

I laughed my ass off at that one, but Jon looked pissed.

"We'd better get going," he said. The look in his eyes told me we'd be sneaking out. It'd save us a bundle, but I knew he felt like crap doing that. I patted his shoulder and suggested it, knowing it was what we had to do, but also knowing he wouldn't bring it up.

"How about we skip the tab?"

"Sounds good," Fuu said. She was polishing her nails. We hadn't given her money to buy stupid luxuries.

"That better've come from your own money," Jon said, swiping the bottle and reading the bottom.

"Under 18?" he said. He laughed.

"It was only a couple bucks, you miser!"

"Jon, relax. I'll use it if it makes you feel better."

That made his face loosen. Still, no smile.

We hit the road at nine thirty. In the morning. She whined about being in the backseat, about not getting to shower, and finally about how hungry she was.

"Well, you'll be paying for your own food."

"Fine," she said, trying hard to sound like she couldn't care less."

"We're not your family. We're not your friends. We're simply your traveling companions."

"Play nice, Jon."

He shot me a deadly glare. I knew we'd be getting our own room tonight, not to fuck, but to fight. Hope the cleaning ladies don't mind a spot of blood. Well, maybe more than a spot.

"I'm seriously hungry, Jon. Let's pull over? Look, a Denny's!"

"That three dollars you spent on nail polish could've bought you a sandwich."

She kicked the back of his seat and said she felt like screaming.

"Don't scream, sweetest, or I'll have to gag you."

"Is that a threat, Blondie? Or is it a promise of foreplay?"

She was the kind of jailbait you'd willingly go to prison for. God, she was so damned hot.

"It's a promise, but no foreplay. Just, me and Jon are really getting tired of that squeaky voice of yours."

Jon laughed, short and dry. I looked at him, surprised. Usually, he didn't like when I spoke for him. But he always tried to speak for me. It got me riled up quick.

I think it was a problem because I felt like he was the dominant one when he did that. And we both knew there wasn't a Dom and Sub. There was not real 'top' or 'bottom.' It was just two guys, who really liked fucking each other. It wasn't a matter of being the girl. We both knew we were men.

We had to keep fighting to prove we deserved each other. If I weren't his equal, he'd have no interest. I think it was the same with me. Girls and guys who proved too weak lost my interest like nothing else.

When they were clingy and boring, and they cried when I fucked them and left, nothing was more irritating. And best of all, Jon and I got right violent with each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Jon didn't really like Fuu

Jon didn't really like Fuu. That was what I thought, the first week we were together.

One night, she suggested hitting a biker bar, saying she'd seen a group of familiar bikers outside.

We did, asking around, and I had a good time. It was dollar beer night, so I was happy and hammered. Jon sat quietly, sipping a vodka-something-or-other, while Fuu flitted around, flirting here, telling a joke there…it was really quite amazing to see her in action.

She was really way smarter than Jon thought she was. In fact, making him think she was dumb was one of the smartest things she could've done.

But she worked this crowd, getting all the information she needed from a group of psycho asshole bikers who'd break your neck for fun.

I like Fuu, even if Jon didn't.

Twenty minutes later, we walked out, her stumbling more than I knew she had to, him walking slowly beside me.

She was definitely pretending to be drunker than she was, because you talk differently to drunks, you reveal more to them, than you normally do.

She was a bit ahead of us, taking off her shoes.

"Jon, you like Fuu?"

There was another of those infuriating pauses and then, "Yes, I suppose so."

I was surprised, which I guess he could tell because he leaned in, while her back was turned, and looked like he was going to kiss me.

Instead, he bit my lower lip, and I yelped, making Fuu turn around to see what was up.

"Let's go clubbing," she said it first. I was thinking it, though. I really didn't want to hit the flophouse we were staying at so early in the night.

"C'mon, Jon, that's a great idea!"

He seemed scared. Or I would've thought he looked scared if it weren't for who he is.

The bouncers didn't even bat an eye as Fuu strolled in, past them and so obviously fifteen.

Jon and I got looked over, patted down and then admitted.

"Did the guy who patted you down grab your junk?"

He laughed, but I thought I saw a blush creep across his face.

"Oh, shit, he totally did, didn't he?"

Jon just shook his head.

"You? Did he, as you put it, grab your 'junk'?"

"Yeah, it was weird. I wouldn't've minded if it was you, but him? Fuck that."

"I'm going to say something," he turned, ready to wreck havoc on the grabby bouncer.

"The Hell you will," I replied, grabbing him and pulling him against me.

"Now, let's dance," I said, loud, over the music.

He moved unsurely, shuffling a little and looking around. I laughed, finding the rhythm of the music and dancing my ass off. He was impressed, that much I could tell, but he still looked uncomfortable.

"I'm getting a drink."

"Huh?"

"I said I'm GETTING A DRINK."

"Oh, me too."

We found Fuu at the bar, entertaining the masses with a long story. All eyes were on her, and it was obviously a funny story, 'cause every couple minutes somebody laughed.

"So then, I run into this queer looking Viking and his blonde boyfriend, oh, there they are! I was just telling how we met."

I looked at Jon, ready to see him slap her hard, but instead, I saw him smiling, and then he fucking laughed. I guess he did like Fuu all right.

"If that guy's gay, then my tits are plastic," a buxom, short little redhead said. Serious, her tits were big.

I smiled wolfishly at her, scooping her up and taking her seat.

"Hey!"

"Sorry carrot-top, my legs are tired."

"Why don't I join you, on your lap?"

"My boyfriend might not like it." I looked at Jon, amazed to see he hadn't bailed or killed me yet.

Instead, he cracked a smile and sat down, on my lap.

"You'll pay for this later," he whispered in my ear.

"Can't wait," I replied.

Fuu got everyone drinks, paying with some poor bastard's card. Clever as always, I don't think she even picked his pocket to get it. I think she just sweet-talked her way into it. I swear to god she's the kind of girl you all in love with, bad.

Later, when she was actually drunk, she let me dance with her. She was aggressive, grinding up against me like the rent was due.

But I danced back. Her hands were everywhere, but y'know, so were mine. I was thinking about her the whole time, 'til Jon grabbed me by the neck.

She didn't notice, her back was turned to me and she was looking for her biker I think, but Jon held me by the throat and kissed me.

"You're still mine."

His words hung on my ears, and after the song ended, I tapped Fuu and told her I was hitting the bathroom.

She smiled and asked Jon to dance. He looked petrified. I laughed.

When I came back, I ran into Jon. Apparently, I took too long and he ran out of excuses for not dancing with Fuu.

Speaking of, I didn't see her on the floor, and I got the feeling something was going down.

Eventually, Jon spotted her, having some kind of argument with some snide, burly looking asshole.

We got through the crowd quick. She looked legitimately scared.

He grabbed her wrist when she turned to run and said, "We're not done here, bitch."

Jon flipped his shit, lunged at the guy and broke his nose.

"Fuck," was all I could say, getting ready to fight a big guy with a broken nose and six of his closest friends.

I hate to brag, but when I fight, it looks damn good. It's like Capoeira and break dancing and dirty, nameless tricks all rolled together. Even on my back, I'm dangerous.

Jon, however, is a very straightforward fighter. He was a little flushed, (damned if he ain't a lightweight), but I knew, even drunk he could kick whoever's ass with his jujutsu, (I think that's what he does but I don't really remember).

So, we fight. Both of us are so quick and fast it doesn't matter if you're the strongest as long as you're faster than the other guy.

Winning a fight ain't like what you'd think. Winning doesn't mean you don't take your share of blows, it just means you're the guy who's still standing.

"Let's get the fuck out," I yelled when we had a chance to escape. We could of easily finished all those assholes off, but two of the four big, professional bouncers were making their way towards us and those guys love calling the cops after one of them pins you and the other busts up your face. Not that I would know.

We all ran out, quickly, through a back door. I was real surprised an alarm didn't go off, but whatever, not like I'm about to complain about that.

When we were outside, away from the piped in techno bullshit "music" and the crowds of anorexics and roid-ragers sweating vodka, we looked at each other and laughed.

It was weird, the three of us bursting into laughter over nothing. I guess the situation was funny enough we couldn't really do anything else.

"You know Fuu, you took care of yourself pretty well back there," Jon said.

I shrugged, agreeing. She did have her moves. She was a spunky little thing, kicking shins and punching noses. I guess she did know how to take care of herself.

We walked all the way back to our flophouse. It was a long, long walk but we didn't mind. What a beautiful fucking night.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning was, in one word, unbearable

The morning was, in one word, unbearable. Jon had gotten up early, already making a pot of complimentary coffee.

That little beep, saying it was done, was what woke me.

"Jon…"

"There's coffee." That was it. Seemed weird, him not saying anything else.

"Yeah. I'll take some of that."

I wasn't seriously hung over. I rarely am. My head ached and my stomach felt weird but I'm never really that sick.

Jon gave no signs of a hang over himself. I had to wonder if it was all the coffee. But thinking back, he didn't drink much at all.

"We should check on Fuu."

"Yeah, probably right on that one, Jon."

I got up, feeling surprisingly sore.

"Fuck, what am I forgetting?"

Jon laughed, almost harshly, and held up his hands innocently.

"What'd we do when we got back?" I waited a beat. "Wait, now I remember."

After the fight, Fuu and I spent most of the walk back falling over each other and annoying Jon.

"Oh, Mr. Morgan, I don't know if your hands should be there!"

She'd pitched forward, falling over my legs. I'd fallen after her. To get up from our pile, I held her waist, letting one and fall and cup her ass. The other took a quick squeeze of one of her tits. Hey, at least I'm being honest about what I did!

And she got up. Jon looked at us. She looked at me. I looked at Jon and she was kissing me. My hands we on the ground, where I'd left them after she stood. My lips stayed in the slightly parted, surprised look I get when I'm shitfaced.

Still, she slipped her tongue in, she was pretty good, but less experienced than I would have guessed.

Then, like she was seeing me for the first time, she got up and started tipsy-running, looking like she was about to break an ankle running in the high, skinny heels she wore that night.

I stayed on the ground.

"Don't look at me."

Jon squatted near me.

"Sorry." I mumbled it, not expecting him to hear.

"Hm?"

"Sorry," I said, but barely any louder.

"Oh, you're not sorry yet, darling."

He pulled my head back, long fingers tangled in my bleached hair. He bit my throat, hard and beneath my collar, leaving an imprint of his perfect teeth. I didn't moan, cause that's not what dudes like me do, but I did gasp. I was surprised, okay?

"You're not sorry yet."


	5. Chapter 5

"So what are you gonna do to me?"

"Remind you of something very, very important."

"And what's that?"

"I'm the best fuck you'll ever find."

That's the closest we'll get to saying 'I love you.' It's fucking awesome.

He undid each button of my shirt so slowly, gently almost. It lulled me into this strange, sleepy place, just watching his beautiful hands, slipping each button out and showing more and more of my skin.

That was why I didn't expect him to grab me, holding me hard by the throat and slam me against the wall.

My head didn't quite hit, but I gasped and opened my mouth to complain. He on the other hand just grabbed my face with his other hand and bit my lower lip, hard.

Harsh and tender, he bit and kissed and licked my torso and my neck. I swear one more second and I'd've come right there, without so much as a squeeze downstairs.

"Jon…ah."

He took a step back.

"Let me just look at you, Morgan."

He ran a thumb over my cheekbone, kissed my near-bleeding lips so softly, and leaned in close.

"Get on your knees."

I dropped like a high school sophomore desperate for attention. And I blew him and swallowed, (yeah, I'm classy like that). Not too much to describe there, y'know what it's like if you've given a blow job before. Lotta jaw strain, strategic swallowing and creative tongue movements. He has a nice dick though. You know a good one when you see it.

I got up and said, "You gonna return the favor?"

He looked at me, fit to bust and said, "No." Damn, guess he's still punishing me.

Later, in the motel's attached diner, Fuu stared straight ahead, avoiding me and Jon's eyes.

"It didn't mean anything," she said. She sounded like a little kid or something, trying to apologize without saying 'sorry'.

Jon smiled, just smiled, and that was scary.

"You should fuck her," I whispered to him.

He looked at her and then at me and shrugged.

"I might. You?"

"Yeah, maybe. Why not?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She was a little better at looking at us now.

"You," I said, smiling that real devious smile I got.

"WHAT-ever. If you don't want to tell me just say so."

"Ha."

"Jon, that's not exactly a laugh."

"Close enough," he said, stretching. He looked at his watch.

"Morgan, you drive first today. Fuu, do you drive?"

"Never learned how," she said, picking at a cuticle.

"Useless," he whisper-sighed.

"Not if she's got a tight—" I started to whisper.

"Need anything else?" our waitress interrupted.

"No, we're very fine thank you!" Fuu said, flashing a cute, closed-eye smile.

Jon threw down for breakfast and I threw down for tip. Then, we left.


	6. Chapter 6

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thump

Thu—"Fuu, cut it the FUCK out."

She shook her head defiantly.

"Why? Because I won't apologize?"

"Yeah, actually. I have to stoop to your level just to get an apology!"

I stared at the road. Maybe if I count to fifteen she'll disappear?

One, two, three, thump.

"SO SORRY." It wasn't a yell as much as a loud, monotone declaration.

"I don't like acting like a kid, but it's the only way to get you two to take me seriously!"

"Paradoxical," Jon said. I'd woken him up, or broken his meditation or whatever, so he was back with us. Awake, sort of.

"I just want to know when we're stopping to eat. And where."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Well, what happened when you asked Morgan?"

"He told me…" she ended with a mumble and a blush.

"I said, 'Soon, if you blow me.'"

Jon looked at the two of us, both overreacting and restrained a smirk.

"Then what happened?"

"She said she'd blow you before she'd blow me. I think it was meant as an insult but I just said, 'Okay, cool. When?"

"And?"

"She got all red and asked again when we were stopping. That girl's a bottomless pit. Her stomach's a black hole. She's fucking hungry all the damn time."

"So, the kicking? She was kicking the back of your seat until you apologized?"

"Yeah."

"Stupid," he said, and slumped back in his seat. "My turn to drive soon."

"Next gas station stop."

Nothing else really happened until we got to the motel of that particular night.

Jon was curled and asleep, or pretending to sleep. Fuu was on a rollaway in the corner.

I sat in th emiddle of my bed, looking at my hands. I couldn't sleep. Not at all. That wasn't just weird it was fucked up. I love sleeping and I do it the way other people pray. Ha, ha, I do it RELIGIOUSLY.

Yeah, sleep deprivation really messes with a good sense of humo—what was that?

There, again. Someone in the parking lot outside our first floor motel room is about to get the shit kicked outta them. Someone female, and scared.

"Jon," is all I have to say. His eyes open and he understands exactly why I'm waking him.

Guns drawn, but not quite brandished, (not got the hang of brandishing, I'm not suve enough) we leave without waking Fuu.

Almost against our door is a hooker, getting smacked on pretty bad. Jon I don't think knew she was a hooker, but me, I knew from the get go.

He dispatched of the guy right quick. I didn't even get t punch him once. I do respect him, though. Not one shot fired.

"You alright?"

"Yeah. Thank you. My name is Sh—it's Hana."

"Jon."

I stood on the brink of an abyss. I was there but I wasn't there. I knew what neither of them knew in that stupid second. He was in love with her.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's brief note: I'm kinda blatantly making Osuzu and Shino one character because I don't have time to write what I had planned originally. Be on the possible look out for another chapter later this week!

"Y'know Jon…"

"Mm?" he was pretending to be asleep, but I knew what he was really doing. He had his ears trained on the bathroom, listening to Hana, showering.

"Hana almost gave you her real name."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, hookers and strippers have multiple names. There's the one they give out to Johns, the one they give to nice, regular guys and there's their real names."

"Hana isn't a prostitute."

"Call girl, escort, hooker, whore. She's a working girl, believe."

He stood up, voice lowered. (Can't believe Fuu slept through this.) "Hana is NOT any of those, those things."

"You ever actually meet a prostitute? Other than some married gold digger?"

Just sitting there, fucking bristling and perfectly still e was definitely madder than I'd seen him before.

"Hana. Is. A. Hooker. I'm not trying to put the bitch down—" and he hit me. Not like he did before. This one felt different. It's stupid to say but this one felt like hate.

He moved to hit me again; swinging southpaw, but I caught his wrist. I held it hard enough that I heard his bones shift.

He kneed me in the gut just as the bathroom door opened. Stunning hooker Hana stood in the steam, dressed and cleaned up, but still wearing fucking make up.

I was hunched on the bed, wanting to puke til my brains leaked out my nose, breathing hard. Fuu was still sleeping. What the hell is her deal? How does she do it?

Jon held her wrist. It wasn't like what I had done to him. No, he was treating her like she was precious, made of silk and he would ruin her if he was careless.

"Hana," I choked out. "You're a hooker, ain't you?"

She looked at Jon and nodded, just once and damn quick. He wasn't looking at her. Jon was looking at me.

"We're leaving." And I heard the door slam, the engine turn over. He was gone.

Hunched over the toilet, I finally did manage to puke.

My mind flipped over and over like all my thoughts were snapshot. My life was made of short little sentences.

I wasn't part of the 'we' in 'we're leaving.'

Cough-heave-choke-rinse-repeat

I wasn't with Jon and I should be.

Tasting bile now

He loves her more than me, (which became) He doesn't love me.

Done, please God of shit let me be done

Fuck. Why do I keep saying love?

I love Jon. I do and I fucking hate myself for it. That's why it hurts so much.

So I brush my teeth rough and quick and drink some mouthwash. And then I wake up Fuu.

She looks up at me, sleepy and soft. She looks at the clock, and following her eyes I see a little orange bottle of Valium. I don't care and I kiss her.

And she kisses me back. I'm on top of her, my head, my ribs, don't even hurt anymore. She moans and it's all too real. What the fuck am I doing is what I should be thinking. I force myself not to, thinking why the fuck didn't I already do this, instead.

I get up and she gets up. We don't talk, cuddle or sleep. I go out for a smoke. I guess she maybe showers of takes a Valium or something.

I walk away from the room a ways, thinking my life over. And I keep walking. I realize, soon I got my surplus duffel, shoes, wallet booze, smokes, clothes money, etc. all with me. And I keep walking.


	8. Chapter 8

We both left her. That should be the end, huh?

Well, it wasn't. Not even close.

When I was reunited with Jon, wait no. I don't like the sounds of that. When Jon came back, when I found him and him me, I asked him what had happened.

He told me little, that I was right and she left him to die, to be beaten to death by thugs, but that's not til a little later.

So, I was alone, Fuu was alone and Jon was having brain-melting sex with one of the cheapest high-class looking bitches I'd ever seen.

At some point, Fuu came looking. I was camped in a hostel, a real fleabag of a place, drinking myself stupid.

Serious. I didn't even recognize her. She asked around, I guess, for a gangly bleached blond and found me, like I said, one hundred percent shitfaced.

I was lying in the communal bathroom, on the floor. I wanted to cry (I didn't, I just wanted to) and get in a fight, but I'd been drinking for something like six hours solid and I couldn't find the door, much less someone to fight. Yeah, yeah, I'm exaggerating, but listen to the story, okay? Christ.

Anyhow. Fuu came in, calling out all shaky, "Morgan?"

"Mm," I said.

"Are you puking?"

"No. But I had to. Had to take a piss. Floor's comfortable right now."

She sat down next to me, slowly, and slipped the gutrot bottle from my hand. She sipped at it slowly and sighed.

"Why'd he have to go?"

"Jon? I don't know. Maybe he thought she really needed him. That we'd be fine on our own."

"Heh. That girl needed money an' muscle. That's it."

She took another sip, without wincing. I could love this girl, I could.

"And. You know. What, Fuu?"

"What's that?" she said. She was huddled into the crook of my arm, her little soft body pressed into mine.

"We won't be fine on our own."

"I know you're going to miss him—"

I stood up.

"We won't be fine on our own because now. There is no 'we'."

"You're not leaving me again, not when I'm this close!"

I laughed and snatched my bottle back. Took a big swig, not expecting one of her tiny fists to hit my gut.

Most of that cheap booze flew out like a hilarious spit-take, while my body remembered Jon's earlier assault.

"We're almost there!" she whined. "California, remember? You promised!"

"No I fucking didn't."

"You know what I mean," she was wiping at her eyes now.

"Obviously I don't. I can't even spell 'California' right now."

The bathroom suddenly seemed to small, so I got out and went back to my room.

She followed, of course.

"If there ain't no Jon, there ain't no 'we'," I told her, shutting the door firmly. I fumbled, looking to turn a lock that wasn't there.

I heard her pace for a bit, before I heard the telltale walk away click of her sky-high heels.

I didn't know she'd look for Jon. She ended up in jail, overnight, for vagrancy.

Jon was easy to find. I don't know why, I don't believe in that fate bullshit or anything like that, but I just puked, brushed my teeth and left. And I found him.

Now, back to the beginning. He was standing in a hotel room, door already knocked down by a beefy tug-type, fighting off three at once.

"Jon!" I wish I hadn't yelled. He looked for a second and caught a blow to the jaw he coulda easily dodged.

I jumped in the fray, tossing him his gun.

I shot once, him twice and we ran as fast as we could to his car. He made a call, someone to clean the room and take out the bullets and I caught my breath, offering him a swig of slightly less rancid booze from a pint bottle.

He took it gratefully and we drove back to the hostel. And we woulda fucked, but like I said: hostel. Four other people in the room.

We ended up sharing a bunk, two exhausted, mostly straight guys gay for each other, resting and dreading the next morning.

Which came, of course, and delivered massive hang over for me and random aches and pains from our various fights the previous day.

He suggested some dive for breakfast and I gladly agreed. We sat at one of those little two person booths and ordered two of the breakfast special, both far too tired still to think.

And for a second, he reached for my hand, squeezing it. For most people it was almost too fast too see, but I saw it, felt it, my heart jumping.

"What happened to the kid?" he asked.

"I don't know. Let's see…fucked her, left her, found you."

"You fucked her?" he asked. He sounded mostly surprised.

"Yep."

"Hm."

We drained our coffee cups and signaled, simultaneously, for more.

"Maybe we oughta look for her?"

"Maybe."

"Still wanna go to California?"

"Maybe."

"Yeah," I agreed. I exhaled and leaned back as far as I could. "Let's go find her."


	9. Chapter 9

She got scooped up for vagrancy. Let out after twenty-four in the tank.

She was pissed, as is expected.

"Some fat fucking lesbian hooker tried to make me her bitch!" she said, aiming a kick for my shins. I avoided it, easily. Fuu could handle herself all right, but she'd never be able to handle me.

"You couldn't take care of yourself, not even for one night?" Jon asked. He looked, what's that word, flabbergasted.

"Shut it," she replied. "What matters is, I heard something through the grapevine."

"Oh yeah?" I rubbed my eyes. Fucking hung over.

"This old chick with half the goddamn hardware store stuck through her face was talking about her friend's boyfriend's estranged brother two towns over. A biker, like them, but with tattoos of yellow flowers all over his arms. And," she smiled. "He's from the West Coast."

We were on the road in less than three minutes. Not that there was much to pack or get or anything like that. It was weird, but finding this guy seemed important. Never done or cared for anything really in my whole damn life but suddenly…whatever.

Jon's driving. Fuu's sleeping sprawled like the little sex kitten she is in the backseat. And I'm thinking, something else I didn't really do much before this. Of course I thought about stuff, like where I was going out at night, who I'd take home, whether I'd go to work in the morning, but never anything with any amount of sentiment or significance.

Makes life easy to walk through, shrugging and laughing.

Now, I was thinking maybe it was important to protect people like Fuu, too young and naïve to know how easy it was to kill someone. And I was thinking maybe it was so hard to leave 'cause maybe, maybe. Shit, I could barely even think the words. Maybe I was feeling something.

Maybe something like love.

Soon, we were pulled over, tailgate picnicking in a vacant lot. It was fast, necessary eating, like fueling up the car. Back on the road, me driving. Not much time for thinking.

"Hey," Jon said. He was quiet, since Fuu'd dozed off again.

"Mm?"

"I'm sorry I allowed myself to become so distracted."

"Huh? What're you talking about?" I asked, eyeballing him. I really was confused.

"The whore. I'm sorry I lost sight of our obligation and took off with that whore," he said. His voice was like a switchblade, plunging into the stillness of the car. I fumbled the radio on, knowing crackling country music would dull his tone. Better to hear anything else than the stabbing emptiness.

His eyes were much the same, I surmised with a few glances. Empty.

"Well, I accept. Your apology, I mean. It's fine."

"No. It's not fine. But it is over," he exhaled, thawing a little. Silence fell, the sun set, and crunchy gravel rubbed our bald tires. We were there.

It was strange how easily it had all worked out. Maybe Jon felt the same, since I caught him touching his gun, reassuring himself.

Fearless fucking Fuu. She walked straight into what was one of the roughest biker joints from what we'd heard. Sky high heels, denim booty shorts, primped hair and fresh make up. She didn't even carry a gun.

That recklessness was special. You lost it once you realized death was a reoccurring character in your life.

Jon and I followed, long legs catching up quickly. He opened the door for her. I get the feeling that was him apologizing to her. She gave him a smile, seemed to say, 'I understand. I accept your apology.' Or maybe I'm just bullshitting.

It was pretty dead in there. Wednesday, little after happy hour. A big guy, not doughy or soft but just plain big, sat at the bar, away from the door. His black leather jacket was on the floor by his feet and his arms were rippled with scars and sunflowers.

It was him. It had to be. Just like I'd pictured him.

"Dad," Fuu said. It was so quiet, he couldn't have heard. She was crying, barely got the word out.

But he turned around anyhow. Sad smile on his face. Sunflower-stained arms opening up to hold Fuu, so tiny next to that massive man and sobbing. I was feeling awkward and out of place, like I always do when families are happy together. Jon said with his eyes that we should go.

Fuu's story, for me, ended in a sleazy biker bar filled with pure happiness. Jon and me, our story didn't really ever begin or end. It simply was.


End file.
